Love Letter to SF

Poems were only written
only when I was lonesome.
What if this cycle was broken?
Could bliss be shared more often?

Set your gazes upon the road.
What a rare sight to behold.
Most Bay Bridge commuters could not recount
the last time this little traffic was on i80 northbound.

The visage of blackness before it joins the radiance
shrouds me while I enjoy the night’s cadence.
The building site before it joins the skyline
teaches me how San Francisco is pretty damn fine.

Frantic,
tears were barely bottled up by the man in a panic.
Sympathetic,
the girl behind the lost and found was profusely apologetic.

Together,
they knew that his hairtie could not be recovered.
Forever,
its sentiment gently fades away like dying ember.

The short, short story
of you and I,
it fades. Fade beyond
the starry sky.

I asked the clerk for roof access
as if I were a hotel guest.
“Only the owner could go there.”
Only this view left to stare
Only this picture left to share
At the top of these very stairs